Americans, Medicine and Evil, Evil Englishmen
by Evil Kitten1
Summary: During a world meeting, America suddenly falls ill and had to be excused... with England volunteering to look after him! But looking after a sick American isn't as easy as England originally thought...


Disclaimer: All characters (including America's glasses) belong to Hidekaz Himaruya!

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It's as they say: "Calm before a storm."

This literally means that things run along as normal before things turn bad. Which is rather like America's day from when he woke up in the morning, feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and he skipped to the meeting room where the World Conference meeting is being held at in his home.

So he turns up early at the same time as everyone else, and he started the opening speech.

"Let this conference convene!" he started, excited. "If anyone have got opinions that are most likely to get better votes than mine, then kindly keep them to yourself until you have no chance to express them!"

"Ahem! Thank you for your less-than-encouraging words..." England cut in, rolling his eyes, and he stood up with a few papers in his hand.

"I would like to turn today's meeting to global warming," England announced and a few groans could be heard from the poorer countries. "I never said it's your guys fault!" he said loudly, with a warning tone to it and someone sighed. "I've had complaints from RICH nations' bosses that they aren't doing enough to enforce combating global warming so I have drawn an excellent plan-"

"Booooring!" America cheered, "how about we build a huge hero to protect the earth? We'll call him Globalman!"

"Globalman originated in Korea!" South Korea yelled.

And here we have the storm, everyone spontaneously started arguing with each other, and it (unsurprisingly) didn't wake Greece up.

America was gladly shouting at England who was poking France's head with a pen, in the background, Russia was running away from Belarus and someone played the Benny Hill theme tune as they dived in and out of windows and random doors. It was certainly an exciting atmosphere, but then...

"Uhh..." America's eyes widened when his stomach flipped.

"-And THEN you HAD to come along and said... America?" England trailed off and frowned. "What is it? If you're faking a heart attack, then it won't work this time!"

America was silent as he heavily drew in breaths through dry parted lips and he was kneeling down a little, trying to resist the urge to throw up in front of everyone. Sweat rolled down the side of his flushed face, but then he stood up as though nothing happened.

England wasn't the only one who noticed the odd behaviour; almost everyone was staring at him. He just flashed an award-winning smile and said:

"So where were we? Oh yes! We were going to-Oop!" His hand suddenly flew over his mouth and he charged out the room, accidentally knocking Latvia aside.

"LATVIAAAAAAAAAA!" Estonia cried from the other side of the room and ran over.

"What was that all about?" Spain asked, blinking.

"Like, he's totally pregnant!" Poland happily cheered, walking up to England.

"WHAAAAAAAT!" everyone (except England) yelled.

"What?" Poland went, blinking his green eyes, "his stomach is large and he looks like he's about to throw up!"

"Uh... Poland, America is a guy, and guys don't become pregnant..." Lithuania explained quietly.

'Not unless you're in a yaoi manga...' Hungary thought dreamily...

"I better go after him..." England murmured and he walked out the conference room.

Silence.

At least until Prussia suddenly exclaimed, "DANCE DANCE PARTY!" And everyone cheered and music played out of nowhere.

===Bathroom===

America felt so rotten, he could barely stand - or walk a few paces to the sink to wash his pale sweaty face from throwing up too early. At least he managed to get the sick off.

He looked into his reflection in the mirror. He does NOT look awesome. His usually cheery blue eyes are now dull and cold, his skin had a tinge of grey and his hair was floppy and lank...

"America? Are you in here?" a voice called.

'Uh-oh! I can't let anyone see me like this!' America thought, panicking, and he spun to run into a cubicle, but his vision blurred violently, and he slipped.

"America!" England shouted when he saw the American fall over onto the polished floor. He dropped to his knees and put his hand on America's back. "America? Are you feeling okay?" His heart pounded hard.

"I'm f-fine..." America's voice slurred a little with its usual drawl. He turned his head to give England a reassuring smile, but it terrified him.

"Bloody hell, America! You're sick!" he yelled, backing away a little. "Why the hell did you go to the meeting if you're sick?"

America's expression crumpled. "I'm the hero! I don't wanna turn up late..."

"That's not good enough!" his former mentor ranted and grabbed his arm to pull him up to his feet. "When you're sick, you stay in bed, take medicine, eat healthy food and not that crap you munch on all the time, and then you'll get better!"

America yanked his arm away. "No way, man! I'm not sick! It's just nerves! Did you see the way Belarus was glaring at me when Russia hid behind me? Her glare made my stomach turn to jelly!"

England just took it all in, not caring, while giving America a stern glare.

"...You don't believe me, don't you?"

"Nope."

"So... let's go back!"

"Wait a minute," England said and he grabbed America's hand. His other hand went up to his forehead softly. America felt his heart rate beat faster and his cheeks flushed pink.

"Damn it, you got a fever," England's voice came out in a whisper, but the low tone made America feel... hotter than the fever is making him.

"I'm leaving Japan to lead the meeting," England said and he took his hand off America's head to send an e-mail on his mobile to Japan's.

America blinked. "Why? You can go back, 'cuz you want me to go home and do all that healthy stuff..."

"I'm coming with you, you bloody git," England sighed and he turned to face America directly. "Knowing you, you'll be too disorientated to do anything on your own..."

America was too stunned to say anything back, but he followed England obediently back to his large home.

===Later===

America felt really depressed.

You would be if England forced you to stay in your bed while he waits on you until you get better... (Fan girls would be delighted if it was them, but stick to the program - France.)

So America is lying in his bed, sighing that he couldn't even sit up long enough without feeling out of breath. His arms were slumped at his sides over the thick duvet the England threw over him when his muscles felt too tired to lift anything, he couldn't even lift a mug of coffee.

'What's wrong with me? I'm the hero, I'm strong,' America thought aloud.

"Being a hero doesn't make you immune to illnesses," England bustled into the room with a cup of tea and placed the cup next to the bed.

"Oh man!" America groaned, "Tea? I hate that stuff! It tastes like hot p*ss!"

"Well you're having it because it's good for you!" England snapped and crossed his arms. "Or would you rather have medicine?"

America froze and mechanically turned to him.

"M... medicine?" he whispered, fear evident in his expression.

"Yes. Cold medicine," England spoke, nodding. "When you were younger, I gave you a bottle full of medicine."

"T-the slimy crap that made me throw up!" America shrieked and sat up quickly.

"It helped you get better. Why, when you took this medicine as a child, you looked bright eyed and bushy-tailed and you ran like the wind again."

"That's because I was running for my life!"

"For god's sake, you bloody git, it doesn't kill you."

"I'm not taking that medicine!"

"I don't even have it with me!"

America turned his head a little to try and see something bulging in his jacket pocket. "You do, it's in your pocket!"

"Yes, you're right," England sighed and he walked up to the bed, pulling the dreaded bottle and spoon out of his pocket. "But it's for your own good."

"NOnononononononono I'm NOT taking that slimy crap!" America yelled, backing up against the headboard of his bed. His face was as white as a sheet like the times when he watches horror movies.

"If you don't take this stuff, then I'll tell everyone about your bed-wetting episodes from when you were a kid!" England snarled.

"No way! That's totally blackmailing me!" America shouted, and quickly clamped his mouth shut when England held out a spoon with the dreaded cold medicine in it.

"Fine. Instead, take this medicine... and I'll let you do anything to me," England coaxed in a low voice.

'It's a big risk, he might force me to watch horror movies with him or make me become his colony... cripes, maybe I shouldn't have made a bribe that like...' England thought, mentally sweatdropping.

America stopped and looked at him. 'He doesn't seem to be lying. Is this dude serious? Is he really gonna let me do anything to him?'

While he was thinking, something shoved into his mouth and a thick, sweet brown liquid trickled down his throat. America gagged a little, but stopped when his mind registered the lovely strawberry-like taste and licked the remaining residue off the silver spoon England forced into his mouth. England pulled the spoon out of his mouth with a sneaky grin.

"Well? What do you think of that 'slimy crap'?" he asked, smirking.

"Y'know... I kinda like it!" America said, smiling, feeling better already. "It'd taste kinda better if you put the stuff in a hamburger."

"Good," England sighed and stood up. "I'll be downstairs if you need me up here. Just give me a shout."

"Wait! You said that if I take that medicine, you'd let me do anything to you!" America said suddenly.

"Oh right," England's eyebrow twitched, irritated. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Well? What do you want to-mmmff!"

America sprung forward and seized him a bone-crushing hug and he rested his chin on Iggy's head.

"Thanks a bunch for helping me, Iggy!" America cheered, oblivious of England's flailing arms and his going-redder-by-the-second face screaming curses onto his chest.

America loosened his grip on England, still holding him in an embrace. He had this award-winning grin that England and fangirls love plastered across his face. It's the kind of grin that makes England blush.

"I really mean it man, thanks," America smiled softly. "Why else would ya look after me?"

England realised he should be talking now. "W-well, you could barely look after yourself so SOMEONE has to look after you!"

"Ahaha!" America laughed, "It's not as if you HAD to look after me! Dude, why would you look after me anyway?" England was silent as he tried thinking of a reason. He was stumped. Why would he look after the annoying, bouncing-off-the-wall, crazy, demented, eating-compulsive, flipping, gross, handsome, innocent, jingling, kid-like, loving, maddening, nerve-wracking, omnipotent, presumptuous, quarrelsome, ratty, spoilt, terribly-sweet, underrated, vibrant, wily, x-rated, yelling-constantly, zippy American?

"It's just the right thing to do," England said quietly. "I couldn't just leave you in the bathroom looking depressed. You'd gotten even more seriously ill if I hadn't done something."

"Nnn... I guess I'd do the same too if you got sick," America remarked.

"Huh. Thank you, America," England mumbled, smiling a little as he relaxed into America's hold on him.

It wasn't until a few hours later that England realised he fell asleep on America. Not that he complained, though he worried a little he might catch his cold, but in fact, he felt like brand new when he saw America's tousled hair, a small smile gracing his features and the light of the low sunset outside settling on his lean face...

England doesn't know how he ended up underneath the thick duvet next to America, but for once, he didn't care. He snuggled closer, hugging the American.

Next morning...

"Achoo!" England sneezed, snatched up a tissue to his face on time.

"Bless you," America remarked lazily and walked into Iggy's bedroom.

"I wish," England rolled his eyes.

"So! How does it feel to catch my cold?" America smirked, putting down a mug of coffee on the bed stand next to England's bed.

"Bloody harsh," the Englishman growled. If his arms weren't so tired, he'd fly at the American and throw the scalding hot coffee onto his clothes. His whole body was trapped underneath the Union Jack-themed duvet. He got a damp cloth laid on his burning forehead and his cheeks were rosy red from the fever.

America tried not to laugh hard at the irony. When they both woke up yesterday, America suddenly got a whole lot better. But the same couldn't be said for England, who tried to stand up, only to faint in a heap. American panicked and slapped his face until he was conscious and then America decided to fly England back to his home where he'll look after him.

He could tell England is still angry at him for slapping his face. So he decided to cheer him up.

"Hey, England! Close your eyes!" America went loudly.

"What for?" England raised his bushy eyebrow.

"Just do it, man! You'll like it!" America ordered.

England sighed and closed his eyes. America smirked and leaned over the Englishman and kissed his cheek.

England's eyes snapped open in surprise.

"What the bloody hell?" he yelled, going even redder than usual and he sat up. "What was that for?"

"I call it my American Charm!" America laughed. "Use it on British people to make them feel tonnes better!"

England was furiously rubbing his cheeks with the back of his hand, but he sighed in defeat and fell back onto his pillows.

"You bloody git... America..." England went weakly, and he had another coughing fit before relaxing, "thanks for looking after me..."

"'S no probs!" America went and rested his gloved hand on the cloth covering England's forehead. "It's my thanks for you looking after me."

"Is that so... Heh-heh..." England laughed a little before falling asleep.

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A/N: Thanks for reading :D


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